


Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me A Match

by TourmalineQueen



Series: Rozenn the Breton [27]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Crack, F/M, Galmar watching with popcorn and amusement, Humour, Incomplete, Multi, Rozenn's A+ Attempts to Matchmake for Ulfrc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 06:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20652506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TourmalineQueen/pseuds/TourmalineQueen
Summary: Written for the Skyrim KinkmemeRozenn the Dragonborn is utterly overjoyed with her husband, Galmar. And now she thinks that Ulfric Stormcloak needs someone who can make him just as ecstatically happy as she is, she decides to set him up with some of her friends. Galmar watches in amusement.





	Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me A Match

"I think he's lonely," Rozenn announced, apropos of nothing.

She and Galmar were sitting comfortably in the living area of Hjerim, enjoying the warmth of the fire and had been reading in comfortable, companionable silence. Galmar glanced at her over the top of his book and raised his eyebrows in question.

"You think who is lonely, wife?"

"Ulfric, of course," Rozenn replied impatiently.

"Oh, of course. Lonely. Yes. It's not like he hasn't got a Palace full of people to talk to, or anything," Galmar replied, rolling his eyes and returning his attention to his book.

"But he has nobody like me," Rozenn persisted.

"And I don't share," Galmar growled.

"That is not what I meant, Bear-Man," Rozenn replied with exaggerated patience. "I meant that he has nobody the way that you have me. And I think he needs that."

"He'll wed Elisif once the Moot co-operates," Galmar said dismissively, holding the book closer to his face the better to hide behind.

"No, no, no, that won't do," Rozenn said, snapping her book shut and placing it on the table. "Unless - do you think they might find love?"

"Not after Dead King Torygg lost to Ulfric's challenge. Those damn Solitude Thanes are still calling it murder, you know. Despite the treaty. Besides the girl claims she loved the Old Man. I doubt she'd submit to Ulfric that easily. It would solidify his claim as High King, though. So I bet that's what will happen," Galmar said, also closing his book. "What is it?"

"That's so sad, Galmar," Rozenn said, looking utterly crestfallen. "He needs to find someone to love, and poor Elisif needs to mourn her husband. I cannot allow them to wed."

"You're the only one in the Province who thinks that way," Galmar warned her. "Skyrim needs a united front, and well you know it."

"How can Skyrim benefit if it's rulers are at each other's throats, or cannot trust each other - or won't get heirs together?" Rozenn asked. "I cannot imagine Ulfric forcing himself on Elisif if she's unwilling."

Galmar blinked, surprised. He thought on the conundrum for a moment. "No, if Skyrim needs heirs, Ulfric will do his duty. Whether Elisif wants to or not, likely she knows her duty, too. There'll be heirs. Even if she is a milk-drinking slip of a thing," he muttered darkly. "You said you needed to get back to Whiterun on the morrow, did you not? Why don't we stop pretending to read, and go upstairs and do our best to make heirs, hm?"

Rozenn smiled warmly, and poured herself onto his lap, winding her arms about his neck. "Why don't we stay here, by the fire and do just that?" she murmured.

"Oengul, here it is! The sword you were looking for," Rozenn called out as she approached Windhelm's smithy.

"Queen Freydis' Sword," Oengul War-Anvil breathed in awe. "She's a thing of beauty, isn't she? Ulfric will be thrilled with this, I'm certain."

"Yes, definitely," Rozenn agreed. "I tell you what, I'm heading up to see Galmar at the Palace right now, do you want to come with me and present it to him?"

"I cannot. There has been a lot of orders for more armour for new Stormcloak recruits, you see, and I need to finish the order tonight," Oengul shook his head.

"Well," said Rozenn thoughtfully, "Hermir won't be working on the equipment for the soldiers, why not send her with the sword. You know she's dying to meet Ulfric face-to-face."

"And it would be a reward for all the good work she's done, and a way to show Ulfric that I think well of her. Yes, that's a good idea, Thane Rozenn," Oengul said happily.

Rozenn smirked. "No, it's a brilliant idea!"

*-*-*

The two dark haired women made their way into the Palace of Kings, with Rozenn coaching Hermir on what to say to Ulfric. "Remember, Hermir, he's just a man, like any other. Make your bow, tell him you are here to bestow a gift from your master, and that if he should need any smithing done, to please think of you and Oengul."

"I can't believe it! I'm going to meet Skyrim's saviour! You are the best friend I could have asked for, just for persuading Oengul to let me do this!" Hermir threw her arms around Rozenn and actually lifted her off the ground in her excitement.

"There's only one person I let do that to me, and you are not my husband," Rozenn said teasingly, once Hermir put her down.

They opened the door to the throne room, and Rozenn pushed Hermir forward. Rozenn peeled off and stood with Galmar near the door to the war-room, watching Hermir Strong-Heart totter nervously up to the throne.

The Jarl looked up froom the paper Jorlief had been showing him, and frowned.

"Only the foolish or the brave approach a Jarl without summons," he said, scowling.

Hermir made a few small noises in the back of her throat, then thrust Queen Freydis' sword at Ulfric, hilt-first.

"A -a - agift, m-my Jarl, f-f-from my - my master, uh," Hermir stuttered and trailed off.

Galmar rolled his eyes, folded his arms and leaned back against the doorframe. Rozenn glared at him, and hissed, "You're no help!"

She strode up to the throne, and removed the steel blade from Hermir's shaking grasp. "My Jarl, Oengul War-Anvil has sent this fine, ancient weapon to you as a token of his esteem. It was buried in a dangerous, draugr-infested crypt, and took great effort to return it to you undamaged and whole."

Ulfric turned a sceptical eye on Rozenn. "I see. And this young lady?"

"Hermir Strong-Heart, my Jarl, is Oengul's apprentice, and an avid admirer of both your person and your philosophy. Oengul has sent her to you with Queen Freydis' Sword as an emblem of the esteem in which he holds her. She is a lovely, sweet young woman, my Jarl," Rozenn added with a pointed stare.

Ulfric pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath, and returned his gaze to Hermir, who was now shaking like a leaf in a gale. He looked pointedly back at Rozenn, as if to say, This one? Really?. Rozenn nodded grimly.

"I must thank you, ah, Hermir, for bringing to me this fine gift from your master" this last seemed directed at Rozenn, "And I will glady remember you and your master's names should I require more weapons be crafted for either myself or my men. THank you."

Rozenn took hold of one of Hermir's arms and gently led her away from the throne. Galmar crossed the room and murmured in her ear, "And this one is better than Elisif, how?"

Rozenn stamped on his foot and glared at him.

"That went well, wife," Galmar commented with a chuckle, as they sat down to eat.

Rozenn stuck her tongue out at him

"And so mature, too!"

"Galmar," Rozenn sighed, picking at her horker stew, "you've known him a long time. What sort of woman would he like? Or man?"

"Unlikely that he'd love a man, Breton. Not like, not like you and I love. He'd love a man like a brother, I think. As for a woman... I think he only ever loved once. And that ended poorly, after the Thalmor had their way with him," Galmar said sadly. "It was such a damnable waste, too. She was almost as good as I at looking after him."

"Well, do you think he could love an Imperial? A nice girl from Cyrodiil?" Rozenn asked, deftly changing the subject to cheer her husband's spirit. "Or would he do better with a Nord, do you think?"

Galmar shrugged. "Hard to say. I doubt he'd go for an Empire-loving Cyrodiilic type, though."

"Well, that goes without saying," Rozenn muttered, reaching for an apple turnover.

"Finish that stew first, wife. Then I'll give you your dessert. What about others of your kind? I've done well with my little Breton, maybe Ulfric would, too."

"Hmm, single female Bretons. Most of the ones I know of are either mages or Forsworn agents. I doubt he'd appreciate a tattoed tribal wench like Kaie," Rozenn mused.

"Kaie?"

"After I escaped Cidhna Mine with Madenach -" Galmar growled low in his chest at the reminder, "- Kaie got my gear back from the corrupt guards. She's about the only one who hasn't ever tried to kill me. And I suspect that if I introduced her to Ulfric, she'd wed him just to gain power and release the Reach from Nord hands. Which might be a positive thing for the Reach, but I cannot imagine Ulfric being terribly happy with her."

Galmar chuckled. "If that's what she's like, I think Ulfric would see her as a challenge, not a spouse. Are there no normal Bretons in Skyrim, then? Other than yourself."

"Well, I suppose I could introduce him to Delphine..." Rozenn said dubiously. "But I think they'd both of them suspect some manner of plot against their lives."

"So I got the best Breton in Skyrim, then. That's good news," Galmar said, lips twitching in amusement.

Rozenn swatted his arm and kissed his cheek.

"Why did you summon me from Sky Haven Temple, Rozenn? I have important things to do," Delphine complained as she arrived at Hjerim.

"You and Orgnar... What's the situation there," Rozenn asked, wilfully ignoring Delphine's question.

"Orgnar? Why are you... Never mind, no he and I are not ... anything more than business associates. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason," Rozenn replied with a patently false innocent look. "Will you join me for a walk? There's someone I think you should meet."

"As long as it's not Ulfric Stormcloak," Delphine muttered darkly.

Rozenn froze. "Err... Why do you say that?"

Delphine scowled. "Let's just say he didn't make the best impression on me during the Great War."

Rozenn deflated. "You know what, you don't have to stay here, if it's inconvenient. This business, it's unimportant. You should go back to Sky Haven and the Blades."

"Only because you're Dragonborn," Delphine muttered irritably, rolling her eyes.

Galmar saw Delphine walking away as he strolled home for the night.

"What is that woman doing here?" he asked testily.

"You don't like her?" Rozenn asked.

"We met in High Hrothgar. She and Ulfric did not see eye to eye about uses of the Thu'um while he was studying under Arngeir. And even when he went to war, and they met in Cyrodiilic battlefields... Let's just say the tension between them was not the sort to be resolved with a fuck," said Galmar, shaking his head.

"So she doesn't like Ulfric and Ulfric doesn't like her," Rozenn summarised.

"More or less - Rozenn. Breton. Wife, please tell me you were not preparing to set them up romantically?"

Rozenn nodded, once, miserably. Galmar burst out laughing, and pulled her into his arms.

"You really are desperate to see him wed anyone but Elisif, aren't you?" Galmar murmured, still chuckling.

"I just want him to be happy," she said plaintively, hiding her eyes in Galmar's brawny shoulder.

"Well, I cannot fault you for that, Breton. Come, we'll make love and talk more on the morrow."

"My Thane! What wrong have I done?" Calder asked, bewildered.

"Calder, this is not a punishment. I want to see how you take to the different responsibilities of Stewardship, and Rayya is a perfectly adequate Housecarl to look after me here in Windhelm," Rozenn said placatingly. "It should only be for a handful of weeks, for the duration of Sun's Height. Maybe the first week or two of Frostfall at most."

The red haired Housecarl looked pleadingly at his Thane. Rozenn sighed. She'd never make a good mother if a look from her Housecarl had her relenting. "I need to see if Rayya and Ulfric might ... like each other," she said finally, in a pained undertone.

Calder raised his brows in surprise. "You're sending me to the wilds of Falkreath because you want to play matchmaker?"

"I promise I'll bring you on the next bandit raid I do," Rozenn offered.

"Three bandit raids and a dwemer ruin," Calder said.

"I - are you actually haggling about adventuring?"

"Only if you want Lakeside Manor to still be standing by the end of Frostfall," Calder replied with a sly grin: he had learned that it was good to tease his Thane sometimes, both Galmar and Lydia had told him as much.

"Fine! Will you go? I want to take Rayya to the Palace tomorrow!"

*-*

"My Jarl, I would have you meet my Housecarl Rayya, lately of Falkreath," Rozenn said the next day in the throne room.

Ulfric barely glanced at either woman. "Well met, Redguard," he murmured. "Was there a problem with the Housecarl I assigned to you?"

From the corner of her eye she saw Galmar smack his forehead with the palm of his hand. Never annoy the Jarl he mouthed at her.

*-*

A week later, following a disastrous dinner in Rozenn's Windhelm house, during which Rayya managed to insult Ulfric's rule, his appearance, ability to fight, and his parentage, and Rayya was sent back at Lakeview Manor, and Calder returned to Hjerim.

Sitting in Candlehearth Hall, Galmar handed a mead to a dejected Rozenn. He chucked her under the chin.

"Cheer up, wife, it may never happen," he teased.

"That's what I'm afraid of. I want to find someone whom Ulfric can respect and who respects Ulfric, but..." Rozenn trailed off and sipped her mead.

"They are few and far between?" Galmar suggested quietly.

"Well, without resorting to options like Haelga of Riften, yes."

"The, er, working man's wench?" Galmar asked, coughing delicately.

Rozenn nodded.

"I shouldn't think Ulfric would want to be within a bargepole's distance of one like that. Unless he was truly desperate for a- ahem," Galmar broke off into a false coughing fit.

"Who are you thinking of now?" Galmar asked.

"Well, there are two Nord women I know of who are honest, hardworking, and won't let Ulfric walk all over them..." Rozenn said softly.

"But?"

"Sylgja works the mine in Shor's Stone and Aeri is a miller in the Pale, and I think they won't be suitable for Ulfric."

"Why not?" Galmar asked, curious. "They sound like the feisty sort. Ulfric likes them feisty."

"I thought that was you," Rozenn grinned, leaning over and nipping Galmar's ear. She sobered quickly, though. "Well, it's just. One is a miner, the other a miller."

"How are those obstacles?"

"Well, maybe it's just that I was raised among class-conscious Bretons, but I don't know what Ulfric could possibly have in common with a miller."

"There is nothing wrong with working a mill! Good honest labour and it makes an honest septim," Ralof interrupted.

"So much for our "private" corner," Galmar muttered.

Rozenn gave her friend a welcoming smile. "I know that, Ralof, but in all honesty, do you think someone like Gerdur could be with someone like Ulfric?"

"Gerdur?" Galmar asked.

"Ralof's sister runs the mill in Riverwood," Rozenn murmured while Ralof sat down beside them and thought about his answer to the question.

"Gerdur, yes, because she has a sensible head on her shoulders, and truly cares about the cause. But you'd need to ask anyone else what their opinion of the war really is."

Rozenn nodded. "And it's not exactly easy to do that, and make a match for our esteemed High King."

"Wait, wait, wait," Galmar interrupted. "I think we may be missing a trick here. Ralof, you say your sister has a good, sensible head on her shoulders, and she cares about the cause, yes?"

Ralof nodded.

"Then we introduce her to Ulfric. Problem solved." Galmar sat back, arms folded, a satisfied smirk on his features.

"Then you'd have a war with all of Riverwood, Galmar. Gerdur's husband, Hod, wouldn't take adultery lying idle," Ralof said.

"Not unless you got him reeeeeeeeeeally drunk," Rozenn said, thoughtfully.

Ralof chuckled, then, watching Rozenn's serious expression, paled. "Wait, you're not really considering... They're married, in Mara's name!"

"Then I'll have to go to Anga's Mill tomorrow. Or Shor's Stone."

"Or Ivarstead. Temba Wide-Arms might be approachable," Galmar pointed out. "If she's mellowed out at all," he added. "Used to get so wound up over nothing, as a girl, if I remember rightly."

"Actually, considering Ulfric's best generals wear bearskin armour, she might be the most approachable of the three," Rozenn murmured happily. She stood, raising her bottle, "To Ivarstead!"

"To Ivarstead," the room toasted.

The next day, Rozenn wore her General's armour, and left Windhelm armed with an optimism she had been sorely lacking the last weeks, particularly after Rayya had asked Ulfric if his father or mother had been a- Rozenn stopped herself. Best not dwell on past failures, or you'll doom yourself to furute ones, she told herself.

Rather than going straight to Ivarstead, however, she caught the carriage to Riften and walked through the countryside to Shor's Stone: she had a small errand to run for Ingun Black-Briar that really, she'd procrastinated too long on. Once she had her sample of ore she strolled over to the mine, where Sylgja was busily working the smelter.

"Greetings, friend," Rozenn hailed the tall Nord.

"Well met. Is that an Amulet of Mara you're wearing?" Sylgja asked, looking Rozenn up and down.

"It is," Rozenn smiled. "Are you interested in getting married?"

"I won't lie. I am," Sylgja replied.

"Wonderful! You must come with me at once to-"

"Riften, yes?"

"No, Windhelm. There's someone I would like you to meet. He's very handsome, and quite eligible..."

"You mean you are not asking?" Sylgja asked, narrowing her eyes.

Rozenn's eyes widened. "Oh, oh, I - uh, I'm... already married. See? My husband's ring," she thrust the finger that bore her Bond of Matrimony under the miner's nose.

"Pfft. Tease," Sylgja muttered and strode off into the mine.

"I am never, ever telling Galmar of this," Rozenn promised herself fervently. "Now, which road will take me to the other side of the Rift?"

The Pale was quiet, and cool but not as cold as usual. The Yorgrim ran cold, fast and clear. Rozenn dipped a hand into it and drank the fresh, chilled water. She straightened her armour, resettled her helm (it never sat on her as well as it did Galmar) and strode across the bridge to the mill.

The mill itself stood silent, there were no signs of life or work coming from the saw or even the chopping blocks. Rozenn wondered if she had come on a day when Aeri might have travelled to Dawnstar, but that didn't explain why nobody else was around, working, or pretending to work. Unless... Maybe the workers weren't even up and out of bed because there was no sign of Aeri to bustle them and encourage them to get cracking.

Aware that Aeri needed all her hands to pull their weight to keep the mill solvent financially, Rozenn strode towards the Common House, picking the locked door with ease, and stepped inside.

Only to clap her hand over her eyes and scurry out as fast as she could, blushing furiously. If this is how Calder feels in Hjerim, then we need to install secure, unpickable doors, Rozenn thought as she ran for home. It didn't even look comfortable, in that pos- NO, NO, NO, Thinking not allowed. Not until I've liberally doused you in the Black-Briars' finest Rozenn told her brain.

*-*

"How did it go in Anga's Mill?" Galmar asked when Rozenn stumbled to bed that night.

"I don't think it's official, or sanctified by Mara, but I think Aeri, Kodrir and Leifur have ... an arrangement," Rozenn replied. "And I'd like to forget I ever saw any of it!"

Galmar grinned, and pulled his tipsy wife onto the bed beside him. "I think I can manage that!"

Ivarstead was quiet when Rozenn arrived, not deserted, but peaceful. Rozenn stopped for a few moments to chat with Gwilin (surreptitiously finding out if the miller had any paramours as she did so - Rozenn did not want a repeat of Anga's Mill) and gathered some High Hrothgar gossip from Klimmek.

The mill was bathed in sunlight when Rozenn approached the red-haired miller.

"Temba, my friend, it's good to see you again," Rozenn called.

"Damn bears been ruining my trees again!" Temba replied irritably.

"Yes, well, that's a pity, but I'm here to talk to you about-"

"Will you go kill them? I see from your attire the pelts won't exactly go to waste, and I need them to stop marking my timber," Temba interrupted.

"Fine, but I have to have a word with you first, before I go after the-"

"There's one now! Quick! Kill it! Kill it!"

*-*-*

Ulfric, Galmar and Jorlief all looked up in surprise as the door to the Throne Room slammed open, and shut, admitting a spitting-mad Breton Dragonborn.

Galmar began sidling in the direction of the War Room. Ulfric pointed at his Housecarl. "It's his fault," he said, with an innocent look.

Rozenn shook her head, and glowered at her Jarl. "That's beneath you, Ulfric. Anyway, it's not Galmar I'm annoyed with."

"Is it Ulfric? Because he could use being taken down a peg or two," Galmar grinned.

"Shut up or I'll marry you off to Temba Wide-Arm," Rozenn growled.

"The girl from Ivarstead?" Ulfric asked in surprise. "What did she do to you?"

"Don't ask that question, just wonder why I would only allow my worst enemy to wed her," Rozenn replied. "Galmar, take me to bed, please. I need to remember that I found someone for myself, since clearly I'll never find anyone for Ulfric."

Galmar wrapped an arm about her shoulder and they walked out of the Throne Room, while Ulfric sputtered at Rozenn's daring to assume he needed help finding a suitable bride.  
The next day, Rozenn's temper had cooled (although Ulfric's pride remained sulkily injured) and she decided to fulfil Temba Wide-Arm's request to slay ten bears.

Galmar grumbled when she left the bed, pawing at her as she pottered around the bedroom, trying to drag her back in bed beside him, but she evaded his grasp each time.

"I've been neglecting my duties in Whiterun, love. You know the Companions named me as Kodlak Whiteman's successor. And I think I'll bring one of the younger Companions with me to fetch that wench's bear pelts," she commented.

"Or I could go with you. I'm a good hunter, and I'd keep your bedroll warm, too," Galmar pointed out.

Rozenn smiled warmly at the suggestion, and nearly relented, but, "I wish I could leave them to it, but I worry that Aela might send one of the inexperienced ones on a job that's beyond their ability. Ever since Skjor, Aela's been a bit... Different," Rozenn said sadly. "Promise me you'll never go alone into a den of murderers, Galmar?"

Galmar got out of bed, clasped her hand, placed it palm-flat over his heart, and kissed her softly. "I swear on all I hold dear," he murmured.

Rozenn gave him a crooked smile, pulled her wolf armour on, and left Hjerim. Galmar waved her off at the city gates, and headed to the Palace of Kings, and Ulfric.

"Oh, stop pouting, Ulfric, you look like a milk-drinker who lost his sweet roll," Galmar grumbled to his Jarl.

"You may inform your wife that I have no need of her meddling in my affairs," Ulfric replied, glowering darkly.

"I'm sure you don't, and believe it or not, my Jarl, I told her as much. But she wants to see you happy, and so do I, so I won't stop her," said Galmar. "Although," he added thoughtfully, "after Temba Wide-Arm, she may have finished with the idea of setting you up. She made no mention of any such plan when she left for Whiterun this morning."

"She left Windhelm? I thought she only just got back," Ulfric asked.

"She did," Galmar grunted sourly, "but she has duties to her dependants among the Companions. She's going to give some of the younger ones experience at the type of work they've signed up for. At least she won't be alone."

"There is that," Ulfric said, squeezing Galmar's shoulder in a friendly gesture of support. "Now, to business. What are we to do about the Grayskins that have applied to join my army?"

It was late. Yrsarald and Jorlief had gone to their respective beds, and Galmar was debating internally whether to go to Hjerim or to his old rooms here in the Palace of Kings.

Ulfric was sprawled at the table, steadily making his way through several bottles of mead and (still) complaining to his Housecarl that he did not need anyone, let alone the Dragonborn, to find him a lover. Galmar, of course, was matching Ulfric drink-for-drink, and soundly ignoring every other word out of the High King's mouth. He finally decided he was too drunk to bother with the cold walk to Rozenn's Windhelm property, and so was settling in to what promised to be an epic drinking session, when a thought struck him, so forcefully that he put down his bottle, turned and stood.

Ulfric raised his brows. "Galmar?"

"Rikke," Galmar said, as though it was the answer to the question. "Rikke, Ulfric. If I mentioned to Rozenn about your history with Rikke, she'd have the Legate here in a heartbeat, Amulet of Mara and all."

Ulfric leaned back in his chair, and regarded his friend seriously, thinking for a long moment. "Galmar," he said, "no."

"Why not?" Galmar asked, sitting again, and leaning towards Ulfric with animation. She was good for you. She was good at looking after you. Not as good as me, but she didn't have all the practice I had. She was beddable then, and still is now. Why not, Ulfric? The fire was not out when we met her at High Hrothgar for the talks."

Ulfric sighed, and closed his eyes as though in pain. "You're a good friend, Galmar. The best. But sometimes you can be truly dense."

"You are the only man on Mundus who can say that and not expect a black eye," Galmar commented. "What's wrong with the idea? She's experienced. You know each other, you won't mind getting heirs on her, you know she can handle herself in a fight, you know she can if needed be a leader of men... In short, Ulfric, she's everything that Elisif is not."

"She is a Legate in the Imperial Legion, Galmar," Ulfric said slowly, as if to a particularly dim child. "And I am the reason behind Skyrim's secession from the Empire. Just on principle, she'd kill me as soon as kiss me, Galmar. You must realise that. Besides, which, it would be bad for Skyrim."

"And your marriage must be good for Skyrim, must it," Galmar asked cynically. "What about good for you? Surely a marriage that makes you happy is going to be best for Skyrim."

"You do not understand, Galmar. My marriage must strengthen my position as High King against any number of potential political enemies who will be testing my Kingship; against the remnants of the Empire's forces - at least, those who do not wish to join us; and against the Thalmor.

"I must have a wife who will help me stand against all of those, and who will take the place of Jarl when I must needs be away from Windhelm for any length of time. And someone who understands and respects Skyrim's past and wishes to bring about a strong, independent future.

"I cannot marry for love, Galmar. You may as well tell Rozenn not to bother."

"You and your damned speeches," Galmar grunted. "It's too hard to argue with you when you won't let me get a word in. I'll tell my wife. But I guarantee you she will not heed me."

"Just - promise me you will not tell her about Rikke?" Ulfric asked, a rare note of pleading entering his voice.

Galmar nodded. "As you wish, friend. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Galmar. And thank you."

"What are we even doing here?" Galmar heard an unfamiliar female voice echoing through the throne room.

"I didn't hear you, Njada," came Rozenn's reply.

"Sorry, what are we doing here, Harbinger?"

"Harbinger Stone-Fist. We are here, Njada, because we have to collect our bounties from the Hold of Eastmarch. And you will keep a civil tongue in your head while we do so."

Galmar peered out of the War Room, where he and Ysarald had been discussing plans for dealing with the removal of the Haafingar Imperial Legion camp. Rozenn, clad in studded armour and leather boots and bracers, a quiver of steel arrows slung over one shoulder, and another female clad in matched hide armour and accessories approached the throne.

Galmar abandoned Ysarald to his tactics, and approached the women. Rozenn lit up when she saw him, and jumped into his arms for a kiss that put other kisses to shame, while Jorlief tried not to stare and sorted through the bounty letters Rozenn had shoved into his hand.

Njada Stonearm made a disgusted noise at the sight of the runty little Breton Harbinger (who she only obeyed out of duty to Aela, Skjor and the Twins) assaulted the fine Nord specimen in Stormcloak Bear armour. She rolled her eyes and started wandering around the Throne room. There was another big bear of a man standing near the Throne, clad in heavy furs and dark attire. Not a Jarl, then, as all the Jarls of Skyrim wore bright, expensive noble's robes.

"Only the courageous or foolish approach the Throne without leave," the man turned and spoke with a deep, delicious voice that made her tingle.

"Well, nobody has ever called me a fool," she purred throatily. He must be Housecarl to Jarl Ulfric, she thought. "And nobody has ever managed to intimidate me, either."

"Is that so?" the tall, shaggy Nord asked, arching a brow. He behaved exactly like Balgruuf's Housecarl - it must be a job requirement to be toplofty and growly.

Behind her she heard the Harbinger call her name. And a second time.

"Njada Stonearm, if I have to I will freeze you solid and shove you out on your arse!" Rozenn bellowed. "You will step away and show proper deference to your High King! Ulfric, my Jarl, I am so sorry!"

"You're Ulfric Stormcloak?" Njada asked incredulously.

Ulfric, for it was indeed he, inclined his head regally.

"But... You act like a - you dress like a- a- Housecarl- mmmf!"

Njada was prevented from finishing her thought when Rozenn clapped a hand over her mouth, and forcefully dragged her away from the Throne.

"Ulfric, I am so, so, sorry. I just - all I wanted was five minutes with my husband. Jorlief, give my bounty money to Galmar, will you? I'll get it another day. This one needs a lesson in manners," Rozenn ground out from between clenched teeth, walking backwards, with a hand on Njada's mouth, keeping her bent painfully backwards as she did so.

They reached the great doors, and Rozenn released the younger Nord, spinning her around and wagging a finger in her face. "You, young lady need discipline. You must learn to keep your peace, and speak politely or not at all. As punishment for this disrespectful attitude, I am taking your half of the bounties we gathered and donating it to Honorhall Orphanage. Is that clear, young lady?"

The two warrior women left the Palace. Galmar stepped over to where Ulfric stood, staring after the pair.

"Will you recover from being mistaken for a Housecarl?" Galmar teased.

"I'll live. That young woman. She had a fire in her," Ulfric said slowly.

"She had an attitude, is what she had," Galmar snorted. "I've heard stories about that one, Ulfric. Too wild to be High Queen, trust me."

"Maybe so. But she was refreshingly different."

"I'll tell Rozenn that one was almost a success."

"You mean she brought that girl here on purpose? Knowing about her... attitude?" Ulfric asked, surprised.

"Unlikely. She'll make a great mother someday, though, don't you think?" Galmar asked.

"Njada?" Ulfric asked incredulously.

"No, idiot, my wife. I was talking about Rozenn," Galmar rolled his eyes.

"She'll be a great disciplinarian," Ulfric commented innocently.

"She already is," Galmar grinned wickedly.

A perfectly ordinary Morndas morning in Windhelm found Jarl Ulfric, his General, Galmar Stone-Fist, the Dragonborn and Jorlief cloistered in the War Room, engaged in debate. Their stalemate lasted until one of the Stormcloak guards arrived, dragging a blonde Nord woman in black leather armour with him.

"What is the meaning of this interruption?" Galmar rumbled dangerously (he was annoyed, because he had felt he was winning the meeting).

"Vex! What in Nocturnal's name are you doing here?" Rozenn ran to her Guildmate, glaring daggers at the guard. The man wisely released the thief's arm.

"Uh, General, sir, this... lady here," he said sarcastically, "insisted she speak only to the Dragonborn. Even against the threat of the dungeons. So I brought her."

Vex shrugged her shoulders, making a show of rubbing her arm and glaring at the guard. "It's business. Private business," she said angrily.

"Guild business?" Galmar asked shrewdly, looking at his wife with amusement.

"Doubtless," she shot back with a saucy wink. Rozenn then turned concerned eyes on her friend. "Are you unhurt, Vex?"

"Mostly," the taller woman said, rubbing her arm again.

"Would you care to introduce us to your friend, Dragonborn?" Ulfric asked.

Rozenn rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, in a moment. First I must speak with Vex.

"My old chambers are still free, wife," Galmar said quietly, looking at Ulfric with raised brows.

Ulfric snorted and rolled his eyes at his Housecarl. Rozenn walked Vex out.

"That one is... passably attractive, Galmar," Ulfric said when the two had left the chamber. "What do you know of her?"

Galmar shrugged. "Little enough. Rozenn keeps her Thieves Guild business to herself. As far as I can recall, all she told me of that one is that she is ... prickly."

"Prickly?"

"Like a hedgehog," Galmar affirmed.

"And yet she likes you?" Ulfric said slyly.

Galmar thumped his Jarl.

*-*

Guild business dealt with, Rozenn offered to bring Vex to Hjerim, and ran off to find Galmar, leaving the Nord in the Throne Room. Jarl Ulfric was lounging on the throne, alone in the room, but for the guards.

Seeing the thief, Ulfric rose and crossed the room. "Welcome to Windhelm, Miss...?"

"Vex," Vex said.

"Have you been here before?" Ulfric asked.

"No," Vex replied.

"Will you return again after today?"

"Unlikely."

"Will you miss this?" Ulfric asked, holding up Vex's lucky lockpick.

"How did you manage that? You never touched me!" Vex said in amazement.

"The Greybeards constantly confiscated my knucklebones when I lived in High Hrothgar as a lad. I had to become... inventive in order to stop Galmar from expiring from the boredom," Ulfric said with a smirk.

"I'm... actually impressed," Vex said, eyeing the Jarl with something other than disdain.

"How impressed?" Ulfric asked.

"Not enough to pass on Brynjolf," Vex said, turning on her heel and leaving the Palace of Kings.

Ulfric stood staring after Vex for a very long time. "Damn," he murmured softly. "Damn Rozenn and her friends."

Rozenn dragged her feet as she crossed the great stone bridge into Windhelm. She had come from Solitude, and had just had one of the most harrowing trials of her time in Skyrim. She kicked a small rock and watched it skitter ahead of her. Astrid would soon feel the wrath of the Dragonborn, but first she wanted to see her husband.

And, she thought viciously, she'd tell Ulfric to jump into the White if he thought she'd bring him any more women only for them to be sent scurrying away like rats deserting a sinking ship. But maybe she'd go find Galmar first. No point in talking to Ulfric when she was so angry.

Calder looked surprised to see her when she made it in the door.

"He's just back from Markarth," Calder said. "Did you a favour, found Ulfric a nice Nord girl in the Reach while dealing with some Forsworn that were harassing the Stormcloak camps. Said he knew her and she was too nice to stay on in that stone-bedded prison, or words to that effect. A nice Windhelm girl, living in Markarth. Why would anyone leave here for Markarth of all places?"

"Markarth has its charms, if you like stone beds and lots of stairs. Think I'll have a nice, long, hot bath before he gets- wait. Did Galmar mention the girl's name?" Rozenn had gone from relaxed to alert in an instant.

"Um, he did, but it passed me by. Maura or Maraid, or-"

"Muiri? Did Galmar bring Muiri to see Ulfric?"

Calder swallowed, afraid of the intensity of his Thane's gaze. "Um, yes?"

Rozenn was out the door at top speed.

*-*

When Rozenn reached the Palace of Kings Throne Room, she saw her former contract, the potential ex-girlfriend from Oblivion, sizing up Ulfric with a worryingly smug expression. Ulfric was gesturing to Muiri to dine with him. Rozenn didn't hesitate, she drew her sword and kept it levelled at Muiri's throat.

"Leave," Rozenn ordered.

"What? Who do you think you - oh - you," Muiri stammered.

"Me," Rozenn said agreeably.

"But you helped me!"

"Yes, I did, which is why I'll let you leave now unhurt. But if you get your claws into my Jarl then this will not end well."

"Rozenn!" Galmar and Ulfric spoke at the same time.

"It's alright, gentlemen. I was just leaving, anyway," Muiri said with a sulky glare at the glass-wielding Breton.

"The Night Mother likes me, so do not think the Sacrament will help you this time," Rozenn hissed in Muiri's ear, then spoke loudly for the benefit of the others in the room. "Perhaps you should visit with your friends the Shatter-Shields before you leave Windhelm. They recently suffered two tragic losses. It might comfort them to see you again."

Muiri stormed out the door, slamming it behind her.

"Wife, you had better have a good excuse for drawing that weapon in here," Galmar said warningly.

"Husband, the last time I met her, I wore red-and-black armour, and had been sent to do her bidding," Rozenn replied, sheathing the blade, now that the trouble had walked out.

"You might have told me!" Galmar grumbled.

Ulfric, who had watched much of the exchanges with wry amusement said simply, "you could have simply had her arrested. The guards wouldn't question you."

"I might have, but I've been arrested without good cause, my Jarl. I didn't like it. Mutual blackmail keeps us on an even keel," Rozenn said, grimacing as her aches and pains from her long, long week made themselves known again. "Don't worry, Ulfric, I'll find someone right for you. It's taken this long, that now I want to do so just to spite whoever keeps putting obstacles in my way."

*-*-*  
TBC


End file.
